Elementary My Dear Sherlock Holmes
by joop-pa-pa96
Summary: Sherlock/Elementary/Sherlock Holmes (2009)/Doctor Who/my OC Sherlock Holmes Universe (check my Wattpad account). The Doctor has done it again! Due to an accident in the TARDIS he brings together four Sherlock Holmes's, watch them band together to restore their London.
1. Chapter One: The Doctor's Mistake

Loud whirring sounds that seemed akin to a warning bell blasted through the TARDIS as the Doctor tried to get control of his time machine. "No…no…no…no…no…NO!" he shouted pushing several buttons and pulling levers as the TARDIS jerked in one direction then another, as if she were trying to avoid something.

It had been many years for him since he had left Rose in that alternate dimension. Since then he had chosen to travel alone. He couldn't, or wouldn't, take another companion. However there was so much left in the universe to see and do. So in order to put the whole ordeal out of his head he did what he did best.

He ran.

With a great heave he pulled a lever, but it wasn't enough. The TARDIS stopped, but the sounds outside made it clear he wasn't out of the fire yet.

He had managed to catch his TARDIS at point where five separate universes met at a single point, like in the western United States where four states come to one point. The TARDIS was blasting through the fragile walls that kept each dimension separate. He was wearing thin at five particular walls in the fabric of space and time.

The hole was getting bigger and bigger. Just enough for a few couples of people and a TARDIS to leak though. Thusly creating a sort of limbo where these people and the TARDIS could meet.

"Come on!" Doctor cried, running a hand through his brown locks. If he didn't fix this soon the five universes would merge together, and if they stayed that way for too long all five of them would implode on each other and might even take a few other worlds out with them as their disappearance would cause a ripple effect throughout the worlds. He removed his glasses and looked the TARDIS consol up and down.

They had stopped.

He checked the monitor, but it was dark and blank.

Next check was the door.

He opened it to find himself in the heart of London. But there were no people. Stranger than the absence of the entire population was the fact that London looked less like London and more like a jigsaw puzzle of London. With bits and pieces of it from, what looked like, the Victorian era. Other parts were completely modern.

"Jonathan!" a young woman (about in her late teens), with dark hair and dark brows furrowed, called. "Jonathan Watson! I swear if this is some kind of prank!"

"John!" a slightly older man with sharp cheekbones and a mop of curly black hair called out.

"John!" a much older man, in his forties or fifties, in Victorian wear called out. His appearance quite disheveled despite his fine clothes.

"Joan!" this man, with considerably less hair than the others, called for someone with a different name, a woman's name, however it was close enough to the others that it seemed to be the same name.

"Brilliant," the Doctor said with a smile.

The four people called around London square, each calling for people with similar names.

The five universes had merged, now they were in real trouble.


	2. Chapter Two: Victorian London

Sherlock Holmes watched in the dark room as the light from the candle changed colors. He had been experimenting with different kinds of wicks to see which would give off a different kind of glow.

John and Mary had just returned from their honeymoon out in the country.

"Sherlock!" John called, entering his old flat. The doctor walked into the room, flooding it with light.

"Close the door!" Sherlock snapped and winced as the light hit his eyes. The pupils constricting quickly and causing the detective great pain as his eyes had been in the dark for quite some time.

John sighed at his friend and opened the curtains, "Sherlock you need to get out of this room. Mrs. Hudson says you've been locked up here for days."

Sherlock grumbled and flopped onto the slightly cluttered sofa.

"Take a walk," John suggested. "Get out of the flat."

"Fine," Sherlock said, "let's go for a walk. But first let's talk about your marriage; I see that you've been sleeping very well. Mary hasn't kicked out of the bed yet has sh-."

Dr. Watson sighed at his old flatmate/friend and ushered him out the door quickly. Much to happiness of an exasperated Mrs. Hudson, who was trying to make thing presentable so that someone might rent the room bellow.

Sherlock Holmes walked down the street with his friend. The busy streets of Victorian London were filled with the noise and smells of a city from the 1800's. Smoke from the new locomotives. Bad water. Unwashed people. And then there were the sights.

Every person he saw was filled with a story that he could read off like a book.

"-ne anything interesting?" John asked.

Sherlock snapped to attention, realizing he had managed to drone out his friend with his own thoughts. "Hmm?"

"Really Sherlock, you should get out more," John said, "It isn't healthy."

For a split second however, everything seemed to blink. Sherlock blinked several times before he realized that not only were the people of London gone, but that parts of the great square were missing. And instead replaced with odd sights.

Sherlock looked about, and found he wasn't alone.

"Jonathan!" a young woman in strange clothes called out for someone baring a similar name to his ex-flatmate. "Jonathan Watson! I swear if this is some kind of prank!"

"John!" a slightly older man, about his twenties, in a black trench coat called out.

"John!" he called in a second, realizing that John wasn't there.

"Joan!" this man however called for someone else.

"Brilliant," a man was peeking out of a bright blue box. His hair spiked up in the front and a large grin on his face.

Sherlock looked around. Where had everyone gone? What had happened to London? Who were these strangely dressed people? How had this happened? Was it the man in the box? Was it one of the two men? Was it the young woman? Was it magic?

Whatever it was, Sherlock Holmes knew he was about to find out.


	3. Chapter Three: Modern London

"I'm bored!" Sherlock complained lacing his fingers together and moving so that he sat on the sofa in reverse. His feet were in the air, resting against the back of the couch and his head on the floor. However his frown didn't turn upside down, annoyance still marred his features as no news of any murders or other crimes had come across his scrutiny.

"Take a case then," John said from behind his newspaper, "you have plenty of messages on your website."

Sherlock grimaced. "Dull."

It wasn't as if he didn't get any job requests. However all the e-mails were either too tedious for his attention or was solved in about five minutes and in fact required little actual thinking.

John sighed, put away his paper, and got up, going to the window, "Then go outside and take a walk. Get some fresh air."

"Dull."

"How long have you been in here?" he asked, reaching to raise the curtain in order to let in light.

Before his fingers could even brush the material Sherlock said, "Leave it."

"Then get outside. When was the last time you went outside?"

Sherlock didn't answer for a long while. Finally he answered, "That bird case."

John was exasperated, "That was almost a week ago. What have you been doing since then."

"Waiting for something to happen."

Giving a grunt John tried to pull Sherlock off the sofa. "Come on. You're going outside."

However, Sherlock didn't protest as John dragged him outside.

The two walked in silence.

"John," Sherlock said stopping. "Have you noticed anything…odd?" He looked around, bits a pieces of London were missing and instead replaced with strange pieces. And then there were the people, well lack thereof. He looked over to where John should have been standing, "John?"

John wasn't there.

"Jonathan!" A young woman, about sixteen or seventeen, ran about. Dark hair messy and unkempt, she was shouting for someone hysterically, "Jonathan Watson! I swear if this is some kind of prank!"

"John!" he called out.

"John!" Sherlock turned; a man in strange clothing was running about, as if he had just stepped from the pages of a history book. He had the look of someone out of touch with the world, but still vastly intelligent.

And finally a man with super short hair and a barely there beard called out, "Joan!"

"Brilliant." Sherlock could just hear it. The voice of a man from a blue telephone box. His head, hair messy and spiked up, was sticking out of the door and he wore the biggest grin on his face. It looked like the grin was about to break his cheeks.

Sherlock looked around at the only company of people present.

The young girl with dark hair and a calculating expression that reminded himself of himself.

The oddly dressed man, with the same expression, calculating and quite similar to his own.

And then there was the man with the buzzed hair and five o'clock shadow.

This day was going to be interesting.

Almost as interesting as a murder…


	4. Chapter Four: American Baker St

Joan Watson and Sherlock Holmes, consulting detectives extraordinaire, walked down the street. Another successful case filed away and another criminal put behind bars. It had been a rather difficult one. Taking up to three weeks in total, but they had done it. Proving yet again that with their combined intellect they were unstoppable.

"We could go get something to eat," Joan suggested lightly.

"If we must."

The young woman sighed. "I'm not going to force you if you don't want to."

Sherlock, ignoring the woman's obvious wish to stop for a bite to eat in order to give his full attention to the text that was sent to him a few seconds ago, said, "Good, then I've just gotten a text from an informant about the recent string of murders on the east side of…"

The 40ish year old man looked up from his phone.

The usual noises of New York City had faded away for almost five seconds. The sound of people walking and talking. Even the smell of the air had shifted slightly. The strong scent of fatty foods sold at every corner by hotdog vendors was absent.

He inhaled.

It was almost like that of London. But not quite. There was still something off.

And then he saw it.

The entire square looked like bits and pieces had been put together by a five year old. On the left there was a bit of the London he knew and the rest seemed to be a London long time lost. And across the street he could see two men and a young woman calling out.

"Jonathan!" The young woman shouted, her voice betrayed how truly terrified she was. Her eyes darting in every which direction to try and find her companion. "Jonathan Watson! I swear if this is some kind of prank!"

"John!" a man in his mid to late twenties called out. He was tall and slim and had a cool, calculating gaze.

"John!" A man dressed in what seemed to be some sort of historical clothing, Victorian by the looks of it, ran across. He was almost as disheveled as the girl before him. He had an odd look in his eye that he had seen in the mirror in the past. It was that of an addict that was not getting any help.

"Joan!"

"Brilliant." Sherlock turned around to see something quite odd. A man in a blue box labeled 'POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX'. The man had brown spiky hair and a rather large smile on his face.


	5. Chapter Five: Shirley's Flat

"Give them to me Jonathan," Shirley begged in screech like roar. "Give them to me!" She reached at the collection John had found underneath her bed.

"It isn't good for you," John said and muttered, "this amount in once place can't be legal."

The girl groaned and fell back onto her bed. "You are the worst kind of human being. What kind of man would deny his fellow human being her sugar supply?"

John made a move to go out the door with the box marked 'Shirley's Stash', however he was stopped as Shirley wrapped her arms around his leg. "Shirley, for God's sake, you're almost an adult!"

"Give it back!" she wailed. "I need it! It keeps me going! It makes my mind sharper!"

"It gives you cavities," John finished, "No wonder you never sleep with this much sugar running through you. Do you want to get diabetes?"

Shirley snarled and made a mad grab for her box. "What do you care Doctor Watson?"

The poor boy tried to move the box out of the way, but was running out of space in Shirley's room to run, "I care because I'm your friend."

"Screw friends, give me my god damn candy!" this was probably the first time John actually heard the girl swear. The lessons on proper educate from Mrs. Hudson thrown out the window as she scrambled desperately for her addicting substance.

John managed to get out the door and close it behind him.

Mrs. Hudson, waiting outside, turned the key in the lock. "Thank you so much John. I've been trying to have her kick this nasty addiction for years."

They could hear Shirley's nails scrape up and down the door, trying to claw her way out.

"First thing to do is to get rid of all the sugar in the house," John said. "She needs to detox first."

The nanny nodded and helped John remove all things sugar and sweet from the house.

A few hours later Shirley had gone from angry to sad and weepy. "Jonathan! Please!"

A few hours after that she had gone back to angry.

However after a full five hours Shirley seemed to be calm enough for John to open the door. "Would you like to go outside for a bit?" John asked.

"Yes," Shirley said. Her hair was sticking out every which way and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She rubbed her nose on her sleeve and followed John out the door.

"Now I want all your money," John said, "you can have it back when we get back."

Shirley narrowed her eyes, but handed over her wallet.

"Anything else you'd like to declare?"

"No."

"You sure?"

Giving him another glare she reached into her pocket and handed John about fifty pounds. "Happy?"

"A little, yeah," John said and they walked through London. "Feeling better?"

"No," Shirley growled.

They got odd stares as Shirley looked like she had been taken out of some insane asylum with her hair a mess and her eyes angry and red. Her face asked the people silently, _"What are you looking at?"_ Once they looked at her they quickly looked away.

"How about we get some chips or something," John suggested. "Or-." Silence.

Shirley didn't bother to look at him. She thought John had just stopped talking. Taking the hint that she didn't want to talk, and instead just wanted her secret staff of candy and other sweets back.

However after a few more minutes of silence Shirley realized that something was up. She looked up to find that John was gone.

Not only that, but everyone who had once been walking the street were gone too.

"Jonathan?" she shouted and ran down the sidewalk, looking for anyone around. "Jonathan!" Her heart pounded in her head as she searched for her friend. "Jonathan Watson! I swear if this is some kind of prank!"

"John!" a man with dark curly hair and sharp cheek bones called.

Another man, in what looked like Victorian clothing called out, "John!"

And finally a man with very little hair and a slight case of five o'clock shadow called, "Joan!"

"Brilliant." A man with crazy brown hair stood in front of a Police Public Call Box. He wore a brown suit and had a gleeful expression on his face.

_"What is going on?"_ Shirley thought look around at the four other men.


	6. Chapter Six: Collision of Worlds

"You, young lady," the Victorian Sherlock Holmes walked up to Shirley, acting polite in order to get what he wanted, "have you seen a man in his early thirties and mustache?"  
"Have you seen a boy with dark hair in a blue jumper?" she countered, raising an eyebrow.  
"Young Asian woman wi-."  
"Short blonde male-."  
All four people surveyed each other with a deducting eye. And what they found surprised them.  
Shirley found that the man in the older clothing was not a cosplayer, as his clothes were too detailed to be that of a man living in his mother's basement. And the way he held himself told her of his addiction to certain narcotics and that no one was stopping him.  
Sherlock Holmes from London 2014 found that the young woman was looking at him the same way he was looking at her. Like he was a math problem that was easy, but still needed mental work to work through. Her eyes studied certain key points on him that would have told him who she was.  
Sherlock from America saw that the man with a sharp facial structure was living alone. Most likely he just lost a roommate. Thin, he didn't eat too much. His fingers were thin, but had calluses. Played the violin. The many similarities were too numerous to be coincidental.  
And finally Victorian Holmes deducted that the man with five o'clock shadow and buzzed hair, and not to mention the rest of them, were not from his time. The way they spoke and several other aspects told him that they weren't foreigners. And the way they looked at each other, including him, told him that they were analyzing each other.  
"Hello there!" the man from the blue box said walking up to them.  
All three men and one woman turned to him.  
"Now who might you all be?" he asked.  
"I believe it is customary to give you name first," the tall raven haired Sherlock said.  
The Doctor smiled, "I'm the Doctor."  
"Doctor who?" Shirley asked, "MD or PHD?"  
"Just the Doctor," the Doctor said grinning. A long period of silence fell over them. "This is brilliant…" he said, that huge, cheek shattering, smile still on his face. "Your names?"  
"Sherlock Holmes," the Sherlock from 21st century London said.  
"Sherlock Holmes." – 19th century London.  
"Sherlock Holmes." – 21st century America.  
"Shirley Holmes."  
All the men turned to look at the teenage girl. She narrowed her eyes and shoved her hands into her pockets, "Well I didn't name myself."  
They all then turned back to eye each other.  
"This is brilliant," the Doctor said again, his grin about to break his face.  
"Doctor," 19th century Sherlock said turning to the Doctor, "do you know what has happened to us?"  
The Doctor snapped out of his own mind and said, "What? Oh, yes. Well, a little trouble with the TARDIS," he gestured to the blue police public call box behind him. "Accidently wore down on the walls between the different universes, but don't worry. I can fix it. I just…need a little time."  
"Where is Joan?" American Sherlock asked.  
"Joan?" the Doctor frowned, thinking. "Oh, yes, your Doctor Watson. Were they all with you?"  
All four nodded.  
The Doctor mouth opened in a sort of frowned, "Well, there's a problem. You see as the universes were merging, counterparts in the same place were pulled through. So you and your Watsons are somewhere around here."  
"Do we need them to return home?" Victorian Sherlock asked.  
"Yes. Bring them back here; I'll work on the TARDIS." He made a move to run to the TARDIS, but he seemed to remember something, "You better hurry, if we wait for too long the universes will implode!" With that he ran back into the blue police public call box Shirley looked around at the much older men, "So we search for them?" 


	7. Chapter Seven: Finding the Johns

The three men and young girl walked down the streets of London. Not really looking at each other. Every so often they, each in turn, would look at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

The differences between them were vast, but so were the similarities.

While Shirley and Sherlock-Modern both had dark hair, Shirley's eyes were also dark but Sherlock-Modern had lighter eyes. And then there was the way they walked. Sherlock-Modern was stiff and walked with purpose. Shirley was much freer in her movements, letting her arms swing about as if they were on a leisurely stroll. All this excitement had managed to take her mind off her sudden sugar depredation and instead her mind was swirling with different hypothesis. Same with Sherlock-Modern, the boredom had been replaced with the excitement of the hunt for truth.

The two more elder Sherlocks both had similarities two that went further than their looks. But it was true, both had 'almost there' beards. But while Sherlock-American looked clean and well kept in his appearances, Sherlock-Victorian looked like he had been shut up for days. His cloths, while fine, were ruffled and mussed. Tale-tell signs of an addiction that was not being treated.

"So," Shirley finally said, "does anyone have any jokes? I've heard that jokes and stories of one's life are often good conversation starters."

"You're going through detox," Sherlock-Modern said, as though this weren't news at all.

Shirley merely grunted in some kind of response.

Sherlock-American asked, "Substance?"

"Sugar."

All three gave her looks.

Shirley shoved her hands in her pockets, "Jonathan found my stash and locked me in my room for hours. Your turn." She looked to Sherlock-Modern. "If I'm an addicted to sugar, I can only imagine what grown-up male versions of me are."

"Rehabilitated," Sherlock-American said, "completely."

"Don't need it," Sherlock-Modern said, as though heroine and other addictive substances weren't a big problem for him.

Sherlock-Victorian didn't say anything. Everyone already knew he was still taking whatever it was that made him act so erratic and his appearance be so disheveled as it was. He scratched his cheek and gave a small cough in the silence as it tensed.

"Your Jonathan, what is he like? Did you meet as school?"

"We are…were flatmates," he said. "He's just recently been married."

Sherlock-Victorian gave a noise, as though agreeing with him. "Dr. Watson as well."

Sherlock-American, "Unmarried."

"Currently trying to snog Karrie Martinson," Shirley said, "and he has succeeded. I've noticed lipstick stains on his neck and collar."

The four people stopped in front of 221b Baker St.

Shirley walked up to the door and opened it and, out of habit, shouted, "Mrs. Hudson, tea and cookies!"

A large teapot was thrown at her.

Thanks to the quick hand of Sherlock-Victorian, Shirley was spared a nasty blow to the head.

"Sherlock!" Two men and a woman called upon seeing the three men and one girl at the door.

"Shirley!"

"Jonathan," Shirley said, as if almost becoming knocked unconscious was something that happened to her every day. "There you are."

Jonathan ran over to his friend, "I thought you were lost."

"Ridiculous, I knew exactly where I was," she smoothed her wild black hair back a bit and peered around the kitchen. "So…I see you have made some new friends."

An Asian woman in her mid twenties was standing near a man in the same type of clothing that Sherlock-Victorian was wearing, only his had mustache and carried a cane. Another young man stood near the woman. He had lighter hair and seemed to be slightly afraid of the events that were unfolding around him.

"John."

"Watson."

"Joan."

"Sugar," Shirley had found a pot of sugar and she was digging into it with a spoon.

Jonathan made an attempt to swipe the jar from her, but was instantly slapped with the metal spoon.

"Mine."


	8. Chapter Eight: Discussing and Comparing

After a long explanation for the companions of the consulting detectives.

"So, you encounter the same…ummm?" John stumbled over his words, not sure at how to speak to the female, Victorian, and teenage versions of himself.

"People?" Jonathan finished. "Irene Adler."

Shirley made a face when the name 'Irene' was said. "Terrible girl," she muttered. She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow at the thought of her.

Sherlock-Modern made a noise that was neither one of agreement or disagreement.

"She died," Sherlock-Victorian said in an unfeeling tone.

"She was Moriarty…" the one from America said.

The two male Sherlocks looked at him with an odd look.

Shirley muttered looking in the refrigerator for something with sugar, "Jim is a creep."

"Don't underestimate him," Sherlock-Victorian said.

Shirley looked up, "I never said I didn't think he was a threat, I just said he was a creep. Creepy fanboy…" Shirley closed the door and checked the freezer. She froze, her eyes wide at what she found. "Who has the severed head?"

Sherlock-Modern looked up, "That would be mine."

She turned, "May I? I haven't been allowed in the morgue at the police station after I broke in to prove Greg wrong." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a pen and began to move and poke at the dead.

"There she goes again," Jonathan muttered.

"Mycroft," Sherlock-American asked. "How is brother dear?"

"Government," Sherlock-Modern.

"Hmm…" Sherlock-Victorian.

"Sister. Cheating on her diet again," Shirley said, not even bothering to look away from the head. "What about Mrs. Hudson? She's my nanny."

"Nanny."

"Transvestite." – American Sherlock

Modern-Sherlock merely 'hmm'ed.

The Johns and Joan sighed as the Sherlocks and Shirley continued in this way, speaking about the various mirrored people in their lives.

This continued until the door burst open and a man shouted, "Found you!"


	9. Chapter Nine: Homeward-Bound

The four Sherlocks and the four Johns looked to the spiky haired man in unneeded glasses. "Found you!" He walked in.

"Who are you?" Jonathan asked.

"I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor Who?" Joan asked.

"Just the Doctor." He smiled widely, "Ready?"

The Sherlocks stood.

The Johns followed.

Then all eight people filed into the TARIDS and the Doctor smiled as he closed the door behind them.

That was when I woke up from my night of Sherlock, Elementary, Sherlock Holmes Movies, and Doctor Who binge watching. I then and realized that my dream of so many hot characters meeting together would make an awesome story.

And I realized that this story's ending is so not what all you readers (all five of you) were expecting, but that is the end of the story.

…

…

…

What are you still reading this for? I just said it was over. Go read something else. Or better yet get off yer computer and go outside, get some fresh air, fight that imaginary dragon in your backyard.

…

I'm just kidding, go to my profile and read another story. I promise that their endings won't be as disappointing as this one's was.

…

…

Go…go to my profile…

GO ALREADY!


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